Rear Echelons

As far as villages went, Erich had to admit that he had seen better. He had grown up in Pfeildorf, once former capital of Solland and now an important trade town in the empire. The villages around it had once been proper towns, that had been walled and guarded. Their population had reduced over the years as people died or left for more safer lands. Now they were villages living in the relics of their days of glory. It was a sorry and comical sight like a halfling wearing a dwarf helmet.

Pyrewood village felt the same to him. An overwhelming sense of decay seemed to permeate in the streets and the could sense place had been inhabited to it's fullest extent once, all the crumbling buildings filled with living people with their hopes and dreams. Now empty window panes and darkened and bare interiors were all that remained. Erich ducked inside a building one final time before he went about his business. A pair of sleeping bats greeted him, flying out of the house, shrieking, forcing Erich to tumble back out momentarily. For his diligence, he was rewarded with a look inside the abandoned house. On the inside it was filthy, piled with dust and other refuse. Broken furniture lined the floor and everything that had not been bolted had been looted. An aura of mourning permeated the building. Erich had come across corpses picked apart by carrion birds and beastmen during his continuing career. This house was as dead as any of them. He quietly took his leave. Something far more palatable was happening at the northern side of the crumbling village.

Erich now had the opportunity to see the Alliance army leave. Marching as part of an army was boring and mind numbing, not to mention physically demanding. Watching an army march was exciting, titillated the senses and could be done in the comfort of a stool underneath a tree. If nothing else, it would be a sight worth seeing. Armies on the march were always a sight to behold. He still remembered seeing the Countess' guard march into Pfeildorf when the fun loving Emmanuelle von Liebwitz realised that there was more to her domain than the city of Nuln. It was a striking sight, to see the Standard of Nuln – a lion holding a pair of scales – at the head of a procession of hundreds of men wearing full plate, escorting the Countess' carriage. They had seemed another race compared to the humble, grey clad Pfeildorf town guard.

He was not disappointed for was certainly a spectacular sight. The soldiers of the Alliance excelled at putting on a show if nothing else. The knights had marched first at the head of the column, resplendent in their plate and barded warhorses. A hundred men, no doubt in the prime of their life, covered head to toe excellent plate armour that glinted in the early morning dawn. Armed with lances, swords and shields with the heraldry that Erich had seen. They reminded him irresistibly of Knights of the Inner Circle, the military elite of the Empire. Their pennants and standards fluttered in the wind as they slowly proceeded out of the town. Bretonnians wrote ballads about their brave heroic knights banding together to go on Errantry wars. Even their flowery language would fail to encompass what Erich saw as the mounted warriors marched forth on their fine warhorses. Despite knowing next to nothing about the Alliance, a lump went up in his throat as he watched the knights leave.

Next came the ordered companies of footsoldiers. Like the knights they too were armoured head to toe in full plate, their bodies all but invisible. While their armour was less ornate than the knights, it was still on par with what smaller brotherhoods of knights in the empire were equipped with. They marched well enough for the most part, but Erich noted that they were equipped entirely with swords and shields. Tough heavy infantry, great for assaulting defensive positions, but they would tire out on the march. He wondered how they could even see in their helmets.

Two different varieties of standards dominated the ranks of the footsoldiers. One was the aforementioned lion stylized on a field of blue. The other was a blue two headed eagle rampant on a field of pure white. From what he had seen of Garrick on that day, the man wore the latter design over his armour. It would seem that Stormwind was the lion, while Lordaeron was the eagle rampant. As long as he kept the men of the lion happy, he would remain in their good graces.

"Quite a sight eh Signor?" The young tilean sergeant, Luigi had walked up to see the army march. Most of Erich's men were resting. They were happy that they had been given the task of constructing a supply depot in the village. General Garrick might scoff at supplies, but keeping an army in the field was the most demanding part of a big campaign. An expeditionary force could easily be cut off and starve to death rather than be overrun by their foes. The men of the empire had often learned this the hard way when they had tried to cleanse the Drakwald in ages past. Small blockhouses in settlements kept roads and lines of communication open. Communication and supplies were key to extended control over a newly conquered land. Of course, from the perspective of the men, they would be getting rich while sitting comfortably at the rear lines.

"Yes indeed it is First Sergeant. Indeed it is." The two men watched from the shade as the lines of the foot soldiers were followed by lighter columns of troops. Erich saw dozens of men and women armed with bows, crossbows and gunpowder accoutred in lighter armour, mostly a mixture of leather and chain mail. In contrast with the infantry and the cavalry, they almost seemed shabby in comparison.

Erich understood why Garrick was so angry at him. Compared to the forces of the Alliance, Erich's Regiment looked downright shabby. Their weapons were not as ornate, their armour was largely simple munitions plate and their helmets were not as all encompassing. It did not help that he had first found them spending their time at southshore whoring and drinking their money away. Bretonnians Nobles often had the same problems with mercenaries. To their prim and proper way of warfare, infantry was an afterthought and they loathed the fact that mercenaries could often stand their own ground without needing help from the knightly cavalry. It seemed that the people of Lordaeron were not so different after all.

At the absolute rear came the wizards. Erich did not even need to see their glowing staves to understand what they were. Their lack of military discipline, garish clothing and complete nonchalance gave them away. It seemed that no matter what or who they were, mages were always known for their eccentricities. One of the halfling-like gnomes was part of the entourage, her bright pink hair neatly tied into pigtails. She walked with the rest of the mages, cracking jokes and engaging in banter. Her big head made her look like a child running around playing at being a grown up. It was all he could do not to laugh.

Curiously, he noted a small flock of birds fly over the head of the army, back and forth as if keeping an eye on them. Carrion birds were usually clever, knowing that marching men mean battles. Battles meant corpses and corpses meant food. Curiously enough the birds seemed to be shadowing the army from head to tail, flying in ever extending circles as if keeping an eye out for foes. Amber wizards were known to do something similar when they bewitched the beasts of the wild to keep an eye out for gathering beastmen brayherds. Not that it would be useful. The land was thickly forested. Small forces could shadow their march and easily ambush them at a turn in the road or a place among the trees where the knights would be useless.

Erich kept watching the army march until Luigi got bored and left. He was still watching as the clouds of dust they had kicked up when the the rest of the camp woke up and got about their daily business.

Caledra stalked around the outskirts of the village taking in the sights. A crumpled note regarding a Gilnean messenger now burned in a small brazier she had found hanging on the wall. It was signed by Captain Stoutiron, who seemed to be running into difficulties on her assigned mission. The note was short and urgent. The messenger needed more forces to deal with the forsaken who were holed up between Pyrewood and the Greymane wall.

The army had almost disappeared up the winding road, the tramp of their moots fading into the distance. In it's place the chirping of the birds and the rustling leaves seemed silent. From what she had heard about Lordaeron, the lands around andorhal had been hit severely by the scourge plague. The land, once the former breadbasket of Lordaeron had withered and died, even as the restless dead had clambered and risen from their graves. The only places not blighted last year had largely been held by the scarlet crusade, a faction of humans so zealous that they killed any they even suspected of being undead. After northrend, the highlord Tirion Fordring had returned carrying the ashbringer and rallied the faithful to his side to begin the long and gruelling task of rebuilding Lordaeron .Even the Cenarion Circle, according to their emissary in Stormwind, were busy setting up a base camp outside Andorhal to see if the land could be healed. She prayed to the light that they were successful in their endeavours. Her orders were to stay here, In Pyrewood village,and take command of the Supply depot that the mercenaries were setting up.

She was torn about the human. On one hand Erich seemed like pleasant enough company when the two were conversing, his manners a mixture of formality that noble humans were taught since birth and the easy going banter of a mercenary. During her stay in Stormwind, she had dealt with several adventurers and swords-for-hires. They seemed pleased to talk to a person instead of killing them. She had always assumed it was because of the gold she would disburse, but it seemed that the feeling ran deep among mercenaries. In a way, it was similar to her experiences as a farstrider. The best part of a scouting mission was returning from her patrols, seeing the spires of her lodge safely in the distance, and returning to the quiet peace of her quarters knowing that her work was done for the moment. She lived in the moment, and cherished the small things that life gave her. It was something she had lost in Stormwind.

At the same time, the human's behaviour two days ago had been atrocious to say the least. The things that he had insinuated about the two of them made her want to throttle him the next time they were in close proximity. Jokes with underlings was one thing, but implying that they had sexual relations in an offhand manner in front of a ranking general was crass in the extreme, and infuriating. She had noticed the other captains snicker at her when she left after the meeting. To top it off, in comparison with the Alliance forces deployed to invade Lordaeron, his mercenaries seemed shabby in comparison. It was probably a good idea to place them in the rear where they would not derail General Garrick's carefully laid plans to liberate Lordaeron.

Erich was watching the army disappear over a bend in the road, eyes wistful. Caledra walked up over to him. The human had not noticed her. In a few brisk steps she walked up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around startled and looked at her.

"Hey, Caledra, how - "

Her slap took him by surprise. A century of practice as a farstrider meant that she was extremely nimble in her movements if she wanted to. Erich did not even register her hand until it had smacked him across his cheek. He yelped in surprise and recoiled from her in surprise.

"What the he-" Erich's eyes narrowed as he studied her face. Then he understood.

"I probably deserved that, didn't I?" If there was a rhetorical question ever asked, it was this one.

Caledra nodded, continuing to glare at Erich. He squirmed under her gaze. After a minute, she stopped with her death stare. He recovered his composure.

"So, that was it?"

She turned around with her hand raised. He raised his hands to protect his face, leaving his midsection and groin fully exposed. It would be very easy to knock down Erich Von Peiper out if she wanted to. Taking a deep breath instead, Caledra said. "No, there is more. We have a bit of a problem. Come with me."

Caledra walked over to the largely gutted town hall. It was still full of cobwebs and dirt but it had a table in it. She supposed it was as good a place as any to set up command in. A few soldiers from Stormwind had taken the liberty of getting a half dozen chair across it, and even now they were busy sweeping out some of the rooms. Given a week's worth of cleaning, this place would be habitable for the living.

A map of silverpine forest lay among the table. Blue pins marked where the army would reach by the time they would begin to set up camp. Fenris keep was a three day march away from Pyrewood village, largely due to the relatively narrow road and forested terrain. Idly, she wondered how exposed the army would be to march straight northwards before it got ambushed. Sylvanas Windrunner would not let an army march into her hinterlands without a challenge. The only person she did not recognise in the room was a man who wore clothes in the gilnean fashion.

A quick glance at him told her of his noble bearing. He knew how to hold himself straight, even in the muck and dust covered clothes he wore. Shoulder length brown hair that was matted and a moustache with a goatee completed his look of a nobleman fallen upon hard times. His single eye took in Caledra and Erich eagerly.

"Are you the commander of this force?"

"Yes." Both Erich and Caledra spoke up at the same time. Then they looked at each other

"What are you doing you imbecile?" Caledra hissed.

"Answering that man's questions. What are you doing?" Erich replied coolly. His cheek was still red from the slap earlier.

"I am in command of Pyrewood." She replied.

"Well he did not ask us about Pyrewood did he? He asked about this military force. I lead it, unless you fancy yourself to be commanding my boys." He was trying to undercut her again. By the Sunwell, she would happily drown Erich in Lordamere if he kept this up in front of strangers.

"And Captain Stoutiron leads the artillery train. I have been put in command of Pyrewood and that includes it's garrison, which in turn includes you." Her voice was now murderous.

"Yes, she is in command. Do continue with your message my good sir." Erich snapped back to look at the man, who seemed nonplussed at the strange way the conversation was turning. He cleared his throat and continued.

"There are a hundred or so forsaken troops tightly holed up north of the Greymane wall. It seems that the Banshee Queen is retreating from Gilneas and Silverpine with all haste, leaving most of her heavy equipment in the lurch. It will be a great boost to the Alliance's war efforts and Gilneas' security if we can destroy them."

"What seems to be the problem?"

"The forsaken are heavily dug in, and the artillery train led by Captain Stoutiron is too far out of range to destroy the position effectively. It overlooks a large section of relatively open ground. We attempted to link up with the captain but the forsaken turned their plague weapons upon us." The man growled as he said that.

"Why haven't you retreated from the woods and attempted to link up with Captain Stoutiron by passing through Pyrewood." Caledra asked. The woods would mask them and allow them to redeploy with relative ease.

Erich spoke. "Because these resistance fighters are the ones that are pinning them in their little redoubt. Once they retreat the Forsaken will be safe to retreat with their weapons south of the wall. If you think a small redoubt is a big problem to assault head on, large fortifications will be a nightmare."

The Gilnean nodded sagely. "He speaks the truth. We need forces to guard the artillery train so that it can move into range and start destroying the Redoubt."

"And that is why he asked who the leader of the forces was, not of the Pyrewood supply depot." Erich smiled as he finished his sentence.

Caledra squinted at the map for a moment before asking. "What sort of forsaken forces are holed up in the redoubt?"

The gilnean replied, " A hundred odd soldiers led by a squad of death guard and an abomination. They are supported heavily by at least eight meat wagons and plague catapults that allows them to dominate any large force advancing on their location. My lady, we need aerial support if we even have a chance of destroying the fortification with ease."

Caledra frowned. Ironforge was too far away and nearly every Flying machine being produced was slated for use in a top secret Alliance project codenamed Skyfire. Besides she was not authorised to call in air support.

Erich meanwhile frowned at the map looking at the pins. He procured a magnifying glass on the table and took a very close look at the pin that marked Captain Stoutiron's position. "Is this map to scale?" He asked. "It does not matter." He murmured to himself. Caledra's and the Gilnean's head perked up at that. It was probably the oddest question she had been asked about maps.

His inspections done, he clapped his hands like a child who had solved a puzzle. It was certainly consternating.

"How many forces do you have my good man?" He asked conversationally, as though he was at a tavern chatting with an acquaintance.

"A hundred or so." The Gilnean looked at Erich warily.

"Can they sneak in and destroy the siege weapons if we manage to distract them?"

"Yes, certainly. We have enough seafourium and dynamite to blow them all to smithereens." The prospect of violence seemed to make the Gilnean happy.

"Now here's the plan." Erich took a quill from his hat and found a sheaf of parchment. Caledra wondered what he was doing for a moment before she recognized the quill in his hand. It was the enchanted one.

The paper was full by the time he withdrew his hand. He passed it over to the Gilnean who read it for a good time, and then reread it again. Then he muttered, "Blimey, that is just crazy enough to work just fine." His grin was positively wolfish.

Erich passed the paper on to Caledra. To her eyes, it was written in a fine Thalassian script.

Our attack will be simple. The Militia will hide in the woods and keep the Undead pinned down from retreating southwards. Captain Stoutiron's battery will advance into artillery range and begin to bombard the redoubt while my force will be in the rear. Their job is providing a screen to the battery once the enemy takes our bait. The enemy will either be forced to abandon their position and run into the woods, or seeing an unguarded artillery battery shelling them, try to close the distance as fast as they can. At this point we will engage them and keep them pinned. At this point the militia can storm the camp and destroy their siege equipment. Then they can join us and crush the flanked and fixed undead force. It should not be too difficult. Any questions?

Also, what is dynamite and seaforium?

It was surprisingly coherent. The man had literally put his thoughts to paper in a way so organised that most petitioners would feel inadequate. Despite herself Caledra had to admit it was certainly ambitious. This act alone would ensure that the forsaken South of Greymane wall in Gilneas would be cut off from any land reinforcements. Most of Gilneas' naval infrastructure had been destroyed in the cataclysm.

Still there were doubts in her mind. "What makes you think the forsaken will take the bait?"

"Because Captain Stoutiron will provide them with the most pressing of bait, one that bites back at the prey." Erich's tone, and demeanour had changed. His grey eyes glinted in the candle lit room and his posture was now suddenly far more straight than Caledra had noticed before. Combined wth his lanky frame, it made him look surprisingly tall. This was not the same man she had slapped half an hour ago.

"So you would send six hundred men against a heavily fortified forsaken garrison and hide them from view? How?" It still did not make sense. Erich turned to look at her, fixing Caledra in his disturbingly focused gaze. She had the sensation of a child being singled out by her teacher among her peers when she said something stupid

"Who says that I am going to send six hundred men to do the job of a hundred?" His stare moved to the Gilnean, who looked positively thrilled at the way the plan's details seemed to have been fleshed out. "And you, my good man, when are you ready to depart?"

"Immediately. Lord Darius Crowley, former master of these lands, pleased to make your acquaintance." The Gilnean extended a hand in greeting. He smelled awfully like a wet dog.

Erich took it and gave it a firm shake. "Altgraf Erich Von Peiper, formerly of Solland, Dog of War. Lets send the dead back to their graves."

guest: I am trying to build up to that. Hans is an ulrican. It will certainly be interesting to see what he thinks of the Gilnean condition.

James Koach: If you would be so kind, can you point me to some spelling mistakes I am making? I am using spellcheck on Open office to make sure that more egregious errors are appearing and I am used to writing in British English. Still, I will endavour to proofread more in the future. This chapter was largely devoted to seeing the Alliance army on the march as it is something I had neglected in the previous chapter. Any more advice regarding details would be greatly appreciated.

CaptnDetergent: Erich knows his stuff, at least when it comes to waging war.

Ironbang, Turoo: You will see soon enough ;)